


To Hold, To Have

by Jaeger_Babe



Series: To Hold, To Have Universe [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Regency, Angst, Arranged Marriage, Fluff, Intersex Omega Biology, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Miscommunication, Oral Sex, Other, Romance, Smut, Unbeta'd, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-22 15:19:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17062226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaeger_Babe/pseuds/Jaeger_Babe
Summary: Yuuri pulls the sheets back over himself, despite his burning skin. “My heat has come early, is all.”“Oh!” Minami gasps, wringing his hands and suddenly looking hopelessly lost. “Should I get Lord Nikiforov for you?”“No!” Yuuri says sharply. The fear of his Lord Husband seeing him in his heated state far outweighs any guilt he feels for yelling at his servant. “Minami, you are not to tell Lord Nikiforov that I’m in heat!”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i am unconscious of intentional error, im nevertheless too sensible of my defects not to think it probable that i may have committed many errors. i shall also carry with me the hope that y'all shall view it with indulgence and after 45 hours of my life dedicated to smut with an upright zeal, the faults of incompetent abilities will be consigned to oblivion, as myself must soon be to the mansions of rest.
> 
> but seriously im sorry for any inconsistent prose lmao

The sound of glass shattering on carpet jars the conversation in the room to a halt. There’s a quick scramble as Phichit and the two footmen in the room rush towards the new Lord Yuuri Nikiforov, who gasps.

 

“I-I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me, it just slipped.”

 

“It’s quite alright, My Lord,” says the one footman, carefully collecting glass for around Yuuri’s feet.

 

“Yuuri, are you well?”

 

Phichit’s hands hover in front of him, his expression earnest. Yuuri can barely look at his dearest friend as he tries to hide his shaking hands in the folds on his dress. “No,” he says and lowers his gaze. “No, forgive me, I don’t feel well.”

 

“We’ve kept you up too late it seems,” Phichit’s tone is light for their small audience of guests, but his face, hidden from view, is concerned, he finally holds out his hand. “Let me escort you out.”

 

Yuuri takes it and murmurs a goodnight to the room. He can’t even find it in him to look his Lord Husband in the eye as he passes, afraid of what expression he’ll find there. Anger, maybe, or worse yet, indifference. 

 

He lets Phichit quietly guide him from the drawing room to the hall and up the staircase. He stops when they reach the door to his room, his grip on Phichit’s arm tightening. 

 

“Phichit, I ought not ask a favor of you,” he begins, but is interrupted by the smaller alpha.

 

“You can ask anything of me, Yuuri. You know this.”

 

Yuuri does know. He and Phichit grew up like brothers. Yuuri holds Phichit in higher regard than almost everyone. 

 

“I’d ask that you scent me.”

 

At that request Phichit falters. He draws away slightly. 

 

“...shouldn’t that job be left to Lord Nikiforov?”

 

Yuuri flinches at the mention of his Lord Husband. He’s not held his scent since their failure of a wedding night, when Yuuri had embarrassed himself so easily and greatly that his husband has not even touched him in their four months of being married.

 

“He would not,” Yuuri finally says. He lowers his voice so it can scarcely be heard by even Phichit. “I fear my heat has come sooner than expected. I know you, and trust you as much as my own blood.”

 

“Yuuri,” Phichit hisses. “Be careful with what you say.”

 

“Please. I should not be leaving my room for the next few days, and no one will enter except for Minami.”

 

“And Minami is loyal to you?”

 

Yuuri nods, his grip on Phichit’s arm increases. “Phichit I beg of you — My heat will be intolerable without an alpha scent. Especially when the house is full of them.” 

 

Yuuri holds his breath as Phichit raises his wrist. He runs the inside over the scent glands on Yuuri’s own wrists, before he gently runs it over Yuuri’s neck. 

 

“I dare not scent the rest of you,” Phichit whispers, his seriousness hidden behind humor. “Will that suffice?”

 

“Thank you, Phichit,” he says in lieu of an answer, and hugs his friend before quickly releasing him. “You should return before you’re missed.”

 

Phichit nods, bowing curtly and bidding him a goodnight. Yuuri enters his own room, not even bothering to wait for Minami before he’s stripping himself and climbing into bed.

 

He’d felt so feverish before, sitting surrounded by alphas — one of which was his husband. His scent stood out amongst the rest, to Yuuri’s dismay. But of course it would, when they were in his drawing room in his grand house. 

 

Yuuri buries his face in his pillow, devoid of his Lord Husbands insufferable scent, and instead smelling like the sort of neutral-nothing smell of ones-self. The calming scent of his friend soaks over him, familiar from his childhood, even if it currently held stronger alpha tones. 

 

It’s nothing like Lord Nikiforov’s scent, which tempts Yuuri to madness and was likely the cause of his early heat. Phichit’s scent is sweet and earthy, comforting and protective and filling Yuuri with peace rather than burning lust. 

 

Yuuri inhales once more and let’s himself drift off.

 

....................

 

Yuuri wakes hot and gasping. He sits up quickly, not caring for his nakedness as he tosses the sheets aside. 

 

A squeak to his left catches his attention and he freezes to see Minami in the doorway, holding his tray of breakfast. 

 

“Yuuri,” he says quickly, and rushes to put down the tray. “You look feverish. Should I call for a doctor?”

 

“There is no need,” Yuuri pulls the sheets back over himself, despite his burning skin. “My heat has come early, is all.”

 

“Oh!” Minami gasps, wringing his hands and suddenly looking hopelessly lost. “Should I get Lord Nikiforov for you?”

 

“No!” Yuuri says sharply. The fear of his Lord Husband seeing him in his heated state far outweighs any guilt he feels for yelling at his servant. “Minami, you are not to tell Lord Nikiforov that I’m in heat!”

 

“Yes, Yuuri,” Minami agrees. “Can I get you anything?”

 

Yuuri thinks for a moment. He feels entirely too hot for so early in his heat. “Prepare a bath. Cool, not hot.”

 

Minami bows and exits swiftly. Yuuri picks at the breakfast left for him, hearty and pleasant, but not what his body is craving. He squirms as he tries to focus on his food, and not the empty feeling inside him, the fluttering and clenching of his cunt, or the wetness on the sheets below him. 

 

He inhales Phichit’s scent to calm him down, and puts on a robe while he waits for Minami to tell him his bath is ready. 

 

Yuuri washes with care, avoiding his neck and keeping his wrists out of the water as much as he can. The water cools him, and he scrubs the sweat and heat-stench from his skin. He passes the rag between his thighs by habit, and can’t help but close his eyes and shudder at the sweet friction. 

 

The touch lingers there; he feels red hot between his thighs and his hard cocklet aches for touch as well. It would be so easy to bury his fingers inside himself and wrap a hand around his—

 

Tearing away the rag with a gasp, Yuuri let’s it fall onto the edge of the tub with a loud plop. He breathes deeply and settles his head against the linen around him, trying to relax. It would not do to get worked up and have anyone smell him in passing.

 

He lays in the water until Minami returns and ushers him out, drying him with soft passes of a towel and dressing him in a chamise before covering him with a robe. 

 

“Can I do anything else for you?” He asks while Yuuri climbs back into bed. 

 

Yuuri shakes his head. “What excuse did you make for me?” 

 

“I told Lord Nikiforov that your stomach was bothering you. The misters Chulanont and Giacometti as well as Lord Feltsman and Lady Baranovskaya say they hope you feel better soon.”

 

“Thank you, Minami,” Yuuri says and pulls the blankets around himself. “You’ve done well.”

 

“Thank you, milor- Yuuri.” 

 

The young Lord Nikiforov is asleep before his manservant can leave the room.

 

....................

 

_ Everything is hot and unbearable as Yuuri pants into this pillow.  _

 

_ Hands wander over his sides and hips before grasping as his behind and spreading him. His struggles are unnoteworthy and do him no good under such a firm grip. _

 

_ He doesn’t register the feeling of his robe or smallclothes as weight settles above him, pinning him down as he grasps hopelessly at sheets below him. _

 

_ Something swipes over his folds, and he gasps and arches. His cocklet is trapped between his stomach and the bedding, and he knows he’s shamefully wet, having soaked his thighs and the sheets. _

 

_ Whatever’s skimming over his entrance helps to spread the slick around, and Yuuri becomes aware that it’s not gentle fingers doing the prodding, for it’s much to long and thick.  _

 

_ Fear and anticipation crawls up his spine as he muffles any noises into the pillow below him.  _

 

_ Then in one smooth motion he’s being filled and filled he can’t stop the shout that tears from his throat. His legs shake and the hands on his hip and his waist are the only things keeping him still as the person behind him pulls out, the head catching on the outer rim of him, before he thrusts in again.  _

 

_ Yuuri doesn’t know who’s behind him, he doesn’t know why there’s no pain — even in heat his first time should be painful, according to everyone, all the books he'd read — just heat and satisfaction as the cock inside him gives him the fullness he’s been craving. Yuuri writhes and pants and abandons all sense of propriety as he pushed himself backward, tries to get it deeper, harder, faster.  _

 

_ It’s seems too short when the person stutters their movements, and Yuuri feels warmth spill inside him. A low groan behind his ear has Yuuri turning his head, finally catching a glimpse of the figure who’s had him and it’s with shock that he sees silver hair and dark blue eyes staring at him through grey lashes.  _

 

_ Even for his surprise, he feels Lord Nikiforov shift inside him, seed spilling inside him and Yuuri is suddenly awash with warmth and completion as his body seizes and he cums with a moan.  _

 

_ “Yuuri,” his Lord Husband says, and Yuuri is too stunned and startled to speak. “Yuuri,” he says again. _

 

_ “Yuuri.” _

 

“Yuuri!”

 

The room is far to hot, the blankets smothering him and the fire baking him alive as Yuuri’s consciousness returns. He’s too aware of the wetness between his legs and on the front of his chamise. 

 

He whips his head around to see Minami leaning over him fretfully. “MY Lord, are you sure you don’t want me to get his Lordship?”

 

“No,” Yuuri’s voice comes as a gasp. His dream swims in front of his eyes like a vision, and he groans when closing his eyes does nothing to help. “I shall not see him.”

 

“I thought married couples were supposed to help each other through their ruts and heats,” Minami doesn’t sound reproachful, but Yuuri feels it all the same. “You were calling for him in your sleep.”

 

Yuuri took a steadying breath in.

 

“I’ve lived through heats before without his Lordship’s help, and I’ll live through this one too.”

 

The expression Minami gives him gives him no comfort, but the boy goes about putting out the fire and collecting books for Yuuri to read. 

 

He desperately tries to erase the dream from his memory as he reads by the candlelight and ignores the crawling under his skin. 

 

....................

 

If there were no guests being entertained in the house Yuuri would have claimed the drawing room and practiced piano or read on the comfort of a chaise. 

 

Or he would have had a horse made ready and fancied himself with long, secluded rides, accompanied only by Vicchan or Makkachin who wouldn’t judge him every time he gasped at the change of a gait or shifted so much in the saddle. 

 

Instead, he was trapped in his room, with only Minami, his books, and his imagination for company. His latter seemed determined to torment him in his dreams, conjuring up visions of his Lord Husband — who had stayed dutifully away in the real world — and making him spill all over himself in his sleep. 

 

It was better, he supposes, than giving into temptation and accidentally luring his husband in with sweet and lust ladened heat-scent. 

 

And so, one can understand the confusion when Yuuri open his eyes and spots Lord Nikiforov sitting perched beside him on the edge of his bed and staring down at Yuuri with an unreadable expression. 

 

“I know this is another dream,” Yuuri says without hesitation. The edge of his vision is hazy like a dream, and Lord Nikiforov looks so very handsome in the firelight.

 

Instead of his normal silence, his dream-husband speaks. “Another? Do you dream of me often?”

 

There’s clear amusement in his tone, and Yuuri can catch it in his scent too. 

 

Phichit’s must have worn off completely then, he thinks. 

 

“You’re in all of my dreams,” Yuuri says, for he sees no reason to lie to his dream-husband, who is much more understanding than his reality-husband. “These heat dreams especially.”

 

Something shifts in the expression on his dream-husbands face. Then slowly he reaches his arm across Yuuri and places his hand by Yuuri’s hip, leaning over him. Yuuri feels breathless at the close proximity.

 

“What do I usually do in your dreams, Yuuri?”

 

His eyes rove over his Lord Husbands face, so clear and vivid for a dream, and his hand is so large and solid by his hip. Yuuri wishes that his dream-husband would touch him already, usually he’s already balls deep in him by now, filling his cunt with warm seed and making Yuuri cum around his cock. Yuuri shivers. 

 

“You bed me,” His words come out as a whisper. He’s too heated to flush at his words. “You hold me down and give me your knot and your mark, and—“ 

 

Yuuri cuts himself off. His breathing is a little too erratic to be dreaming, and he can hear the wind howling by his window.

 

“And?” His dream-husband prompts with a thumb brushing over the inside of Yuuri’s wrist. 

 

He can’t tell up from down, right from wrong, dream from reality. His Lord Husband has never been so close to him, or spoken so softly to him — not since their first meeting, the carriage ride from the church to his grand home, their wedding night. 

 

“And you...” Yuuri licks his lips dry from his heat and from irrational nervousness brought on by the heat dream. He must have descended into heat-sickness, he realizes, if his dreams have turned to nightmares and delusions. “You bind me, and deny me satisfaction until I beg and cry, until I’m forced to say your name.”

 

His dream-husbands expression shifts once again, and his hand shifts up Yuuri’s arm, leaving gooseflesh in the wake of his touch. A cool balm to his hot skin.

 

“And that is what you dream of? What you want?”

 

“Yes.”

 

There’s a long pause, and then finally,  _ finally _ , his dream-husband reaches for the covers and pulls them back. Yuuri doesn’t try to hide himself or his wet chemise. He lays still as blue eyes rove over his body. 

 

“You’ve let yourself get heat-sick,” he says as his hands wander over Yuuri’s arms, his thumbs once again press down on the scent glands on Yuuri’s wrists. 

 

“Yes,” Yuuri repeats. 

 

“What an odd way to gain sympathy from your husband.”

 

Yuuri doesn’t have time to find a reply as his Lord Husband’s wrists rub over his own, infusing their scents. 

 

He jerks, his nose filling with the fresh and icy smell of his husband. It’s too vivid to be a dream, Yuuri realizes too late. Everything was real.  _Everything_.

 

He scrambles, but Lord Nikiforov’s grip on his wrists holds him in place. He ducks his head and tries to turn away, fruitlessly tugs his arms even though he knows his husbands strength is greater than his own while he’s overcome with heat-sickness. 

 

Distressed omega scent floods the room, and Yuuri gasps when Lord Nikiforov pulls him forward, until he’s settled near half on his Lord Husband's lap, and his face buried in his strong neck. 

 

Shivers wrack his body as he’s forced to inhale Lord Nikiforov’s scent. Fingers find themselves on the back of his head, and Yuuri thinks he’s meant to suffocate there, until they start stroking his hair.

 

The other hand remains on his wrist, thumb rubbing idle circles.

 

He sits frozen like that for what seems to feel like an eternity — held in his Lord Husbands arms until his scent, which usually wrecks Yuuri’s nerves, becomes soothing. Like fresh-fallen snow, and crisp autumn days. 

 

Yuuri inhales deeply and tries not to focus on too much. He feels the immediate sickness abate slowly, until he’s aware of his surroundings, and not burning with fever. 

 

Eventually he detached himself from Lord Nikiforovs neck. His husband allows him to slide off his lap and back onto the bed, but keeps a hand on his wrist. 

 

“Your fevers gone down quickly,” he says. “How do you feel?”

 

Yuuri is reluctant to answer. Now that the deliria is gone he feels anger simmering in him, for how dare Lord Nikiforov steal into his chambers and help Yuuri make a fool of himself. 

 

“Ah,” his Lord Husband says after a bout of silence. “I see your attitude towards me has not changed, despite the fact that I’ve helped you.”

 

Yuuri gathers his most scathing glare and shoots it at his husband.

 

“You were much more inclined towards me when you thought me a dream. Maybe I should not have helped you after all.”

 

Anger bubbles in Yuuri, heating him as much as his heat-sickness did. Is his Lord Husband a fool? Openly mocking an omega in the midst of their heat, on their own nest. Lord Nikiforovs scent reeks of amusement and Yuuri grits his teeth.

 

“You’re horrible,” he cuts out, and finds his strength to move away from the insufferable alpha, only to be reminded of the grip still on his wrist. “Let go of me.”

 

“I ought not.”

 

“Leave!”

 

“No.”

 

Yuuri pulls backwards, trying to twist his wrist out of his husband’s grasp. But his grip is tight and he only succeeds in pulling him further onto the bed. 

 

The anger fizzles when he sees the smile on the alpha’s face, and Yuuri tries for another tactic. 

 

“Please,” he says, lowering his voice and letting be colored with sadness. “I wish to be alone.”

 

“Your heat-sick will surely return if I go. Do you truly want that?” 

 

Yuuri looks away. He doesn’t want to return to a fevered and delirious state, but when the alternative is being locked away in private with his Lord Husband, to whom he’d just confessed his most embarrassing fantasies? Yuuri swallows as nervousness creeps on him.

 

The area which his husband holds feels like electricity, and as the fight leaves him once again Yuuri is reminded why he’s in this situation at all. 

 

His skin feels warm even with the fever gone, and he wants to rip the soiled fabric from his body, wants to sate the aching between his thighs, wants to rut against his hand until he’s coming undone. 

 

He belatedly thinks of how his thoughts would affect his scent and he quickly tries to wrangle it back in, but one glimpse at his Lord Husband’s face knows it’s too late. 

 

Yuuri regrets everything all at once. He regrets losing the chance to travel home and spending his heat there, for he knew it was coming for at least a week, and he’d stayed at Lord Nikiforov’s request. He regrets failing to take care of himself, for letting himself be assigned to such a loveless marriage void of any good-will and friendliness. 

 

A finger hooks under his chin and draws his face upward. 

 

Yuuri regrets being so cold when they first met, that his awkwardness and anger stilted any kind of relationship they might have had. For he doesn’t deserve the soft way Lord Nikiforov touches him — even the grip on his wrist is loose now. 

 

“I won’t force you, Yuuri,” he says. “But I want to help you.”

 

“Why?” The word tumbles from him before he can stop it.

 

There’s a short silence where his Lord Husband gazes at him, expression unreadable. “Because you are my husband, and I wish to make up for any neglect.” 

 

Yuuri scoffs and turns his head, only to be direct back by the hand on his face.

 

“You are also quite lovely,” he says then, and Yuuri tenses. “Flushed in the firelight and moaning for me.”

 

This time Yuuri can feel his blush despite his heat. In his embarrassment he tries to pull away, but it’s short lived by his husband’s wrist running over his neck, glancing over his scent gland. 

 

“Hush,” his voice his low, and Yuuri is flush to remember all the times he thought it the most attractive voice he’d ever listened to. “Will you let me help you?”

 

“I will not let you…” Yuuri trails off, words failing him. “Bed me.” He finally settles on.

 

The amused expression is back of his husband’s face, but less mocking and more fond. “Of course not,” he agrees readily. 

 

The hand on his wrist runs up his arm and over his shoulder, fingers play against the neckline of his chamise. 

 

“I won’t bring you any pleasure,” Yuuri says. The other hand draws down from his neck and over his collarbone. 

 

“It’s of little consequence.” 

 

His Lord Husbands touch moves further down, fingers brush over his nipples, pebbled under the fabric, before they continue. He bites his lip and curls his fingers in the surrounding blankets.

 

“May I?” Lord Nikiforov whispers when he gets to the hem. “Or do you wish to stay covered?”

 

Driven by heat and spite Yuuri grabs the hem himself, and with a little shifting pulls it over his head and tosses it aside. 

 

_ There _ , he thinks.  _ He can take nothing from me. _

 

His boldness is quickly chased away when he sees his husband gazing over his body. He shivers at the first graze of a hand on his knee, even though the touch is warm.

 

He’s gently pushed onto his back, and twists the sheets at his sides as he watches Lord Nikiforov shift and settled between Yuuri’s legs, hands running up his thighs coaxing him to spread. 

 

Like a disaster that you can’t look away from, Yuuri desperately wants to turn his head and hide his face in his pillows, but he can only stare as his husband touches him for the first time. 

 

He jumps as smooth fingers run over his lips, teasing around his hole before they skirt up towards his cocklet. His husband runs a thumb up the underside, rubs under the head to make Yuuri gasp despite himself, and moves back down. 

 

Fingers rub wetness over the outside of him, and Yuuri holds his breath as he tries to stay silent and still. He can feel himself clench around nothing, and wishes for mercy. 

 

“You’re producing so much slick,” his husband lifts his hand and spreads his fingers, already glistening and covered even though they’ve yet to be inside him. Yuuri whines in his throat. 

 

He catches Yuuri’s gaze before he averts his eyes back downward and returns to his teasing. He circles until Yuuri’s hips move of their own accord, seeking  _ more _ , and then he slowly inserts one finger. 

 

Yuuri feels like he’s no longer in control of his body as he gasps, and arches. He feels more slick gush from him as the digit inside him moves, thrusting in and out and twisting. 

 

Just as he starts to become accustomed to the sensation his husband pauses and suddenly there’s more stretch than before. He clenches around what he knows must be two fingers, larger than his own and moving better than Yuuri would have been able to do for himself. He squirms and lets his eyes fall shut, his legs spread wider as Lord Nikiforov curls his fingers and draws them in and out in a steady pace. 

 

He opens his eyes when he feels his husband shift, and sees him near laying next to Yuuri, his head propped in his free hand while his other stays between Yuuri’s thighs, his fingers buried deep. 

 

He does something which rips an animal noise from Yuuri, mouth parted as he falls into the gaze of his Lord Husband's blue eyes. He stared as Lord Nikiforov repeats the motion, again and again, drawing out noises from Yuuri against his wishes. 

 

Precum dribbles from his cocklet, pooling on his stomach and spilling onto the bedding, and the wet sounds coming from the fingers in his cunt are loud in the room, and makes him flood with embarrassment. 

 

“How do you want me to bring you off?” Lord Nikiforov whispers. “Like this, with just my fingers? Or with my mouth on you?” 

 

“N-no!” Yuuri manages, his one hand coming up to brace on the alpha’s broad chest, ready to push him away should he decide to follow through on his lewd suggestions. “Just this. I’m so close.”

 

“You don’t want me to suck on your sweet, little cock?” His husband's voice is low and dark, and Yuuri trembles. “I could bury my face in your cunt and drink your slick until you’ve cum on my tongue.” 

 

The image paints itself in his mind, and Yuuri bites the inside of his cheek because he does want it. He wants it horribly.

 

“You feel so warm around my fingers. Wet and tight and perfect, and you’re such a lovely color too — exquisite.”

 

He feels heat blossom from between his thighs as he his breath catches in his throat. He tears his gaze from his husband’s as he cums with a long moan. He spills onto his stomach and turns his head into his husband chest as he feels himself clamp down on the fingers inside him, his orgasm rolling through him like the tide washing onto the shore. 

 

He whimpers as the fingers leave him. He immediately wants them back in, filling him and making him cum again. He trembles with aftershocks and curls his hand into a fist in the fabric of his husband’s shirt.

 

He looks up in time to see his Lord Husband licking the slick and cum from his hand. Yuuri watches his husband watch him, blue eyes boring into his until Yuuri looks away, chest heaving and cheeks flushed with embarrassment and arousal. 

 

Eventually his eyes start to fall shut, and he lays silent as his husband stays next to him. He drifts off, the scent of protective alpha surrounds him, and he basks in it until sleep takes him. 

 

He doesn’t register blankets being pulled over him, or the arm that circles his waist.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *ariana grande whistle notes*

_~Six Months Prior~_

“Yuuri you must go in, for he’s already agreed to the deal with Papa and wishes to meet you,” Mari said, fretting over Yuuri’s hair as her brother tries to bat her hands away.

 

“Do I get no say in this? Why am I being traded off like a piece of cattle?”

 

“Because Mama and Papa need the money and Lord Nikiforov needs a spouse. I hear he’s quite agreeable and we both know he’s very handsome. You could hardly ask for a more suitable marriage partner.”

 

Yuuri grits his teeth and lets Mari smooth his dress before ushering him into the sitting room.

 

When he enters the room Lord Nikiforov stands, hat in his hands. He bows, and Yuuri curtsies in return.

 

“Yuuri,” He says, and Yuuri is surprised by the familiarity in which the Earl says his name. “You are well, I hope?”

 

“I am. And his Lordship?”

 

“Very well.”

 

There’s a long pause, in which they stand facing each other. Neither one sure of what to do or say next. Yuuri lets his eyes fall on the window behind Lord Nikiforov, focusing on the greenery outside. Even across their distance Yuuri can smell his scent, and he can only describe it as wholey perfect.

 

The clock on the mantle ticks steadily, and Yuuri can hear the bustle of servants far away in the house. He’s also painfully aware of his own breathing, and makes an effort to keep it light.

 

“Will you sit?” Lord Nikiforov finally asks.

 

Yuuri hesitates, then crosses the room to the couch, sitting as primly as he did when Minako was first teaching him Omegan-etiquette. Lord Nikiforov sits beside him, a short distance away, and turns towards him.

 

“It might have been explained to you,” the Earl says, “That I have made a deal with your father.”

 

“I know.” Yuuri’s words come more sharply than intended.

 

“I’ve been pressured by my uncle for a while to find a suitable omega to marry,” Lord Nikiforov says. “I hardly have the time to court, and when I learn of your family’s situation through some connections I—”

 

“Please, sir, I don’t require an explanation.”

 

“All right,” The Earl seems to forgive his interruption, and fiddles with the hat in his lap. “But, I wish to get to know you. What do you like? What do you do? Who are your friends? Your favorite foods?”

 

“I enjoy reading, and riding,” Yuuri says and no more.

 

There’s silence as Lord Nikiforov waits for him to continue, but Yuuri’s heart beats too fast in his chest and his minds spins too horribly for him to keep speaking.

 

“I have a large library,” he says once he accepts Yuuri isn’t going to elaborate. “And a fine stable. I’m sure you’ll find both quite agreeable.”

 

Yuuri’s mind spins, the realization washes over him all at once that in a short time he will no longer be at home, at their house and Inn by the sea, but will be far away in a strange place, married against his wishes and made to run a great house as a husband. It’s too much and his breath catches in his throat.

 

“I-” Yuuri gasps, and stands, the Earl standing quickly after. “Forgive me, I- I do not feel well.”

 

“Of course,” the Earl says, and Yuuri can feel the alpha’s gaze on his back at he rushes from the room.

 

....................

 

~ _Present~_

 

Yuuri wakes slowly, more peacefully than he’d done for the last several days. He no longer feels overcome with heat, but as he remembers the previous night he squirms and tries to tamper down the longing in him.

 

He jumps when the door opens, and draws up the blankets around him as he sits up as he watches servants fill a tub, the water steaming slightly.

 

“Why are you filling the bath?” He asks one of the girls.

 

“His Lordship ordered us to, My Lord,” is all the answer he gets before she’s rushing from the room.

 

Yuuri stands as the door shuts and grabs and dons his robe in passing as he approaches the bath. The water is hot when he dips his fingers in, and he wracks his brain trying to figure out why Lord Nikiforov would do such a thing.

 

He jumps as the door opens again, revealing his husband. Yuuri stares at his attire, his coat is missing, as is his cravat, leaving him in just his shirt and waistcoat. His hair is far from it’s usual style, for now it lays half over one eye and the rest looks tousled. Yuuri blushes as he realizes how it only serves to make him more attractive.

 

“Good, you’re awake,” his Lord Husband says as he closes the door behind him.

 

Yuuri gestures to the tub. “Why did you order this drawn?”

 

Lord Nikiforov, who had been in the process of rolling up his sleeves, pauses and shoots Yuuri a look. Yuuri steps away, even though he sees no contempt or annoyance on his husbands handsome face.

 

“Do you wish to keep smelling like a heat-sick omega?”

 

“...No.” Yuuri crosses his arms over his chest, clutching the robe tight. “What are you doing in here?”

 

“I thought that was obvious, my dear,” Yuuri tries not to shiver as impermissible delight spreads through him at the pet-name. “I’m going to bathe you.”

 

Yuuri takes another step back. “I can bathe myself.”

 

“Yes, but you see, I wish to do it.”

 

Silence spreads between them as they stare at one another, both determined. Yuuri feels off-balance. Memories from the night linger in his mind and he tries not to give into the omega side of him, begging to be taken care of by his alpha.

 

_He’s not_ my _alpha,_ he thinks bitterly, and catches himself.

 

“You said, last night, that you wish to make up for any neglect,” he starts and waits for his husbands nod of acknowledgement before he continues. “Well, sir, you need not. I’ve never been neglected, or found wanting since I’ve come here, and have no desire to suffer through any attempts you might make at repaying a debt that doesn’t exist.”

 

His Lord Husband’s face settles into something cold and distant. Yuuri watches his jaw move as he clenches and unclenches his teeth, his gaze not shifting from Yuuri’s.

 

“You must think me a fool,” Lord Nikiforov says after several minutes. “If you think I don’t know the conversations you’ve had with Mr. Chulanont, and with your sister. I hear you cry, in bed at night, or in the stables. You thought you could have Minami lie for you, as if your own husband wouldn’t be able tell when you’ve gone into heat.”

 

Yuuri’s breath quickens as his husband speaks. Dread laces through him like he’d not known since the day of their wedding.

 

“Maybe I am a fool for accepting your fathers deal,” his Lord Husband continues, and Yuuri can’t help but flinch. “You’re quite different from the charming omega I danced with. If I hadn’t had to live with you for so long I’d believe you to be a better actor than you are.”

 

Yuuri’s breath catches in his throat as his husband’s words wash over him. He can’t even avert his eyes, stuck staring into blue eyes filled with anger and sadness. Yuuri can’t stop the sob that breaks from his throat.

 

“How can you say something so horrid?” Yuuri gasps out, and the cold face of his husband morphs into something alarmed. Tears run down Yuuri’s face too fast for him to wipe them away. “I’ve always thought that you would regret being married to me, even when it was first announced!”

 

“My dear,” Lord Nikiforov says - his tone changed completely - and steps forward, his hands hover in front of Yuuri, as if unsure. “I had the brightest hope for our marriage when we met.”

 

His voice is warm, laced with nervousness as Yuuri cries. “I was so scared, and then you turned so cold towards me.” Yuuri knows he’s barely coherent, but his husband hushes him.

 

Hands settle on his shoulders, and Yuuri curls in on himself, but does not draw away. “I’m afraid I must confess I know not what to do when others cry in front of me,” Lord Nikiforov whispers. “Should I kiss you?”

 

“No!” Yuuri yells. “Just stop treating me like a glorified housekeeper, and reserve for me the same kindness you offer to your friends!”

 

The room is silent but for the sniffling and hiccups that come from Yuuri as his sobs taper off, his piece finally said. His Lord Husband stands in front of him looking shocked, but his collects himself after a moment.

 

“I’m sorry, my dear. It seems you were wrong on the matter of neglect, for you’ve been missing comfort.”

 

“You’ve made me most comfortable, My Lord,” Yuuri says, sniffling.

 

“I mean love, and the comfort that comes from being close to your husband.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Will you let me comfort you, Yuuri?”

 

Yuuri nods. He stays silent as his husband wipes the tears from his cheeks. He helps him from his robe and into the bath and rugs a rag over Yuuri’s skin, washing away the scent of heat-sickness that lingers on him. Yuuri’s tired from the stress and the crying, so he doesn’t struggle as he stands nude and lets Lord Nikiforov towel him dry and wrap him in a robe.

 

He watches with forbearance as his Lord Husband scents his wrists and neck, for the third time in their marriage. Then he watches the alpha kneel in front of him and part his robe, his acceptance turns to trepidation as a wrist smooths over the intimate scent glands on his thighs, but it’s over quickly, his husband standing in front of him again, a small smile on his lips.

 

“There. I will send Minami to help you dress. Do you think you’ll be up for dinner with our guests?”

 

“Yes,” Yuuri says. He stays still as his husband retreats from the room, and Yuuri realizes with a jolt that he never even thanked him.

 

....................

 

“Ah, there you are! Are you feeling better?” Phichit rushes to Yuuri’s side as soon as he enters the drawing room. Yuuri nods and Phichit offers his arm, and leads him to a book on one of the tables, handing it to him. “I found a book that I thought you’d be interested in.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“Yes, it’s a non-fiction, about the war in the Americas. I thought it dreadful, but I know you’re not adverse to that sort of thing…”

 

Yuuri lets Phichit go on as he finds his gaze drifting from the book placed in his hands to the vision of his husband by the fireplace. He stands, talking with Mr Giacometti and Lord Feltsman, but rather than intimidating — the countenance of which Yuuri usually sees him — he looks softer somehow, brandy cup in hand and smiling at his friend and uncle.

 

His attention shifts from the conversation and his eyes find Yuuri’s across the room. Yuuri drops his gaze quickly, his face heating. The hair on the back of his neck tingle, and he knows his husband is still watching him. Yuuri tries not to focus on the fact that he still smells very much like Lord Nikiforov.

 

“...doesn’t favor either side. It’s quite unbiased. Yuuri?”

 

Yuuri looks into the face of his friend. “I’m sorry. I’d love to read it. Where did you find it?”

 

“Ah,” Phichit says, his gaze shifting as he clasps his hand behind his back. “I stumbled upon your Lord Husband in the library just as he was finishing it. Naturally, I inquired as to what he was reading, and once he had explained the premise I knew it would be something you’d enjoy.”

 

“...I see.”

 

“I told him as much too, you know.” When Yuuri doesn’t respond Phichit continues. “Perhaps, once you’ve read it, you both can discuss it.”

 

“Phichit,” Yuuri says, exasperated. “I don’t need courting ideas when we’re already married.”

 

“Maybe not. Victor didn’t join us for dinner last night, you wouldn’t happen to know anything about it would you?”

 

Yuuri shoots Phichit a glare. He doesn’t need teasing from his friend, not when he already feels so embarrassed over the whole ordeal.

 

Dinner is called in the moments after, and Yuuri is glad that everything is back to normal.

 

....................

 

Things hardly return to normal once their guests leave the following week.

 

Yuuri’s sat in the library, reading with the dogs curled at his feet, when he hears footsteps enter.

 

He looks up, expecting to see the butler, or maybe one of the maids, and is surprised to see husband hesitating at the entryway of the room.

 

Yuuri’s pulse jumps as Lord Nikiforov walks towards him. At his feet, Makkachin lifts her head and stares at her owner.

 

“May I join you?”

 

“...Yes.”

 

“Wonderful,” his husband says and sits on a nearby couch. Yuuri turns his attention back to his book, but can not comprehend the words on the page. He listens and watches out of the corner of his eye.

 

The silence is stifling and Yuuri can see Lord Nikiforov fidgeting in his seat. Finally, he speaks again. “What are you reading?”

 

Yuuri tells him the name, not looking up from the page.

 

“I finished that one myself not a week ago. How are you liking it?”

 

“I like it very much,” Yuuri glances up, and sees his husband leaning forward towards him, face open and interested. Yuuri swallows his self-consciousness. “And what did you think of it?”

 

“I enjoyed it immensely. I had tried to discuss it with Mr Chulanont but he seemed far from interested,” his Lord Husband pauses before he continues. “He did insinuate that you would be interested though, and I’m glad he’s not been proved wrong.”

 

“I find the unfiltered truths that come from unbiased non-fiction is the most interesting, and allows one to develop their own views and opinions most easily.”

 

“So you’re a realist then,” his husband says, still smiling. “I wouldn’t agree so much. I think, if one thinks critically enough about anything they read, they can find their own opinions to be quite opposite of the bias.”

 

Yuuri doesn’t know what to say, and feels awkward in the conversation.

 

“...That is also true, I suppose.”

 

When Lord Nikiforov doesn’t respond he turns his head back down to his book. He ignores his husband as he whistles and coerces Makkachin to come to him, rewarding him with stomach rubs and head pats. Vicchan follows soon after, to Yuuri’s quiet distress.

 

“I wonder what opinions these ones have,” his Lord Husband speaks again. “Do you imagine that they would debate on the taste of duck, or the texture of fish?”

 

“Don’t be silly,” Yuuri says before he can stop himself, “They would obviously argue over the softness of our pillows.”

 

He freezes when he realizes what he’s said, and risks a peek up at Lord Nikiforov. His heart beats a soft rhythm in his chest as he sees his Lord Husband sitting on the floor, completely undignified, with one hand on each dog and — Yuuri realizes with an internal swoon — smiling at Yuuri with his heart shaped smile.

 

....................

 

“Are you going riding?” His Lord Husband asks as Yuuri’s making his way toward the stables, dressed in his riding clothes. “Let me come with you.”

 

Yuuri is hardly in the position to say no, so he waits and let’s his husband accompany him to the sables. Together they mount their horses and set off, Yuuri leading the way on his usual route.

 

It’s relaxing normally, but with Lord Nikiforov riding with him it suddenly seems tiring. His Lordship’s horse, used to hunts, is tempermental with the slower gait of Yuuri’s horse, and the smooth trail he rides.

 

So the surprise is lessened when he hears his husband shout. Yuuri turns to see the Earl struggling to control his horse, and Yuuri quickly recognizes that she’s about to buck.

 

She does so right as Yuuri shouts, her front legs coming up, then down, and her back kicking out. Lord Nikiforov stays on for the first one, and the second, and tumbles forward on the third.

 

Yuuri watches with horror as he falls to the ground with a thud, and his horse jumps away, running off.

 

As quick as he can, Yuuri turns his horse around and urges her towards his husbands body. He sees him struggling to sit up as Yuuri approaches.

 

“Victor, don’t move!”

 

He speaks so sharply his horse stops short and Yuuri slides off, running the rest of the way. His Lord Husband stares at him as he kneels down.

 

“Do you hurt anywhere?”

 

“You said my name,” Lord Nikiforov says, breathless.

 

Yuuri ignores him. “Did you hit your head?”

 

Lord Nikiforov stares up at him with wide eyes. “I may have, if you’re being so kind to me.”

 

Yuuri flushes and scowls. “Don’t vex me. Does your head hurt? Or your shoulder, or back?”

 

“Ah, my dear,” he says. “I’m all right. Just the wind knocked out of me, I think.”

 

To prove himself, Lord Nikiforov slowly sits up, and under Yuuri’s worried and watchful gaze tests all his limbs and body for injury. He isn’t dizzy when he stands and Yuuri breathes a sigh of relief.

 

“We’ll go directly back, and I’ll call for the doctor to come anyway,” Yuuri says as his Lord Husband climbs onto their remaining horse. He swings himself up behind him, barely able to see over his Lordship’s shoulders. Yuuri grasps the reins and keeps a gentle gait back to the house. “I’ll send someone to find your horse too, though lord knows what we’ll do with her.”

 

“We’ll do nothing,” Lord Nikiforov says.

 

“She threw you!”

 

“It’s my fault for picking her,” his husband insists. “And you know, I have a love for feisty things.”

 

Yuuri doesn’t know what to make of the comment and stays silent for the rest of their journey. He’s quick to pass his Lord Husband off to his valet and retreats once he’s assured the doctor has been called and the stable-hands are looking for the missing horse.

 

He undresses and re-dresses with thoughts swirling in his mind, and desperately tries to forget the fact that he said his Lordship’s name.

 

....................

 

_~Four Months Ago~_

 

“Lord Nikiforov-”

 

“Just Victor, when it’s us, if you please.”

 

Yuuri’s fingers clench in his robe. He stares at the floor, and thinks of how impossible the request is, when the alpha before him is an Earl, and his new husband, and so very handsome. Quite the opposite in every way to Yuuri.

 

How could Lord Nikiforov ever be satisfied with someone like him, he thinks and pulls his arms tighter around himself.

 

“I could not, your Lordship. I- It’s....” He struggles to find the words for his thoughts, and as the silence grows his Lord Husbands scent changes to something displeased.

 

“You will not even call me by my name when we are about to lay together?”

 

Yuuri knows his own distressed scent is spilling out. Tiredness and nerves making him lose control of it. He shakes his head.

 

There’s a long pause, where only the sound of the fire and their breathing fills the room. Then Lord Nikiforov crosses and pulls the rope to summon a servant.

 

“We will not lay together then. The maid will take you to another room, you can make it your own until you decide to come to me.”

 

A maid comes shortly after, and Yuuri keeps his head down as the Earl orders Yuuri to be taken to another room and for her to use absolute discretion.

 

It’s impossible to sleep, so far from home, and so alone in a big, silent house. Rejected by his new husband, Yuuri lays in the soft bed provided to him, and tries not to remember Lord Nikiforov’s disappointed and angry scent that followed him from the room.

 

His sadness turns to embarrassment turns to spite in the following weeks, as his Lord Husband’s attitude doesn’t improve from their first night in the house. And Yuuri quietly resolves to never utter his name, if only to keep the insufferable man out of his bed.

 

....................

 

_~Present~_

 

Yuuri looks up every time he hears footsteps enter the library and chastises himself for being disappointed whenever it’s not Lord Nikiforov.

 

Since he fell from his horse, his Lord Husband has joined Yuuri daily as he reads. First he sat on one of the other couches and played with the dogs.

 

Then he started writing letters, or doing his work. Yuuri hates this for his Lord Husband will sigh and make disagreeable noises and Yuuri can’t help but feel paranoia that it’s directed at him somehow. He never stays long in the library on those afternoons.

 

Lately, though, he’s taken to sitting on the same couch as Yuuri with a book, and after about as much silence as he can seem to take, will start asking Yuuri questions about whatever he’s reading.

 

He seems to catch on that Yuuri is naturally more quiet, because he stops asking philosophical questions that and lead to debates, and instead asks lighter questions, and the conversations become easy between them.

 

Now though, Yuuri stays in the library longer than he normally would. He’s abandoned the book, taking to looking out the window at the grounds, when he hears footsteps again.

 

He turns quickly and sags when he sees the butler instead.

 

“Apologies, My Lord. His Lordship has sent me to inform you that he cannot join you today, and that he will see you at dinner.”

 

“Of course. Thank you.”

 

Yuuri leaves the library soon after, Makkachin going off on his own while Vicchan follows at Yuuri’s heels. He meets with the housekeeper to organize meals for the next week and then goes to his room to write to Phichit.

 

He’s almost forgotten about the afternoon by the time he’s changed for dinner and entering the drawing room, so when his Lord Husband stands to greet him and takes Yuuri’s hands in his, he feels confused and alarmed.

 

“I’m sorry I could not join you earlier, my dear,” Lord Nikiforov says. “I received a letter that had to be dealt with posthaste, but I know it’s inexcusable for—“

 

“Please, sir,” Yuuri interrupts, “There’s no need to apologize.”

 

“But I must, because I know you waited for me.”

 

Yuuri flushes and averts his eyes. “I just wanted to spend more time reading.”

 

“Of course,” his Lord Husband says, but he’s still holding Yuuri’s hands and by the tone of his voice Yuuri knows he’s not convinced.

 

“What was the urgent matter?” Yuuri asks, changing the subject.

 

“Ah, I received a letter from Christophe in London and…”

 

Yuuri listens until they’re told dinner is ready, but even after they sit down he urges Lord Nikiforov to continue.

 

Dinner’s, without guests and with young Yuri Plisetsky away, are just the two of them. At the beginning it was painfully awkward. Then Lord Nikiforov started hosting parties and inviting close friends for long stays.

 

It was with the greatest of luck that Mr Giacometti had brought Phichit with him during his second stay.

 

But lately it is… pleasant.

 

Yuuri enjoys the food more and, when he isn’t actively denying it, the company too. Lord Nikiforov smiles more, and even Yuuri in his angriest moods can see how his Lord Husband has tried to bridge the gap between them.

 

Yuuri’s heart flutters, a strange sensation, and he cannot think why he feels so light and content. He tries to focus on his husbands words as he watches him pick up his wine glass, and Yuuri blushes when his thoughts drift to how those fingers felt inside him.

 

Since his heat, dreams have come almost nightly, vivid and unrelenting as he’s pleasured by the husband in them. Most mornings he wakes sweating and frustrated until he slips a hand under his nightgown and touches himself to completion.

 

He tries to stifle the thoughts, but a shiver runs up his spine and he knows there’s no stopping his scent.

 

There’s no doubt his Lord Husband notices, as he gives Yuuri an unreadable look over the rim of his glass. He makes no comment though, sparing Yuuri from embarrassment.

 

Yuuri feels indebted almost, for that and for the past weeks where Lord Nikiforov has been so kind, and when it comes to the time when they would normally part for the night Yuuri hesitates.

 

“Yuuri?” He asks. “Is everything all right?”

 

“Thank you,” Yuuri says, before he can convince himself he shouldn’t. “For everything.” He steps forward and rises to his toes, pressing a light kiss to his Lord Husband’s cheek. “Goodnight.”

 

He goes to turn, to retreat to his room where he can hide and pretend that he still harbors major dislike towards his husband, when Lord Nikiforov catches his waist.

 

“Yuuri,” he says, and Yuuri wishes they were not out in the open, a spectacle for nosy employees to watch. “I wondered if you wouldn’t be adverse to joining me? Tonight?”

 

His blush must be spectacular, for Yuuri can feel burning in his whole face. “I…”

 

“While I’ve been trying to amend for past grievances, and have aimed to be the sort of company you needed in the past, I know there’s another mistake I wish to make up for.”

 

Yuuri is silent, flushing and frozen with Lord Nikiforov so close and and his warm hands holding his waist.

 

When his husband speaks his voice is lowered to almost a whisper. “If you would allow it, I would wish to give our wedding night another try. For I’ve come to hate the idea of you finding anything wanting in any capacity.”

 

Yuuri swallows. His hands are clammy and his heart races, and he dares look into his Lord Husbands face and finds it earnest.

 

“Darling?” He asks, to get a response from Yuuri.

 

“I—I will come to you.”

 

....................

 

Yuuri did not imagine it would be so nerve wracking being in the room for a second time, but it makes sense when the first instance ended in such a disaster.

 

He looks around the room, taking in things he did not notice the first time. There’s wooden carvings that rest on the dresser, crafted by Yuri as gifts to his older cousin. He sees a collection box on the far side of the room, and a sword leaned against a wall, as well as a large pile of books near the bed.

 

He tries not to look to much at the bed itself, though a glance reveals that it’s large, four-postered, and looks perfect for nesting in.

 

His Lord Husband stands in front of him, dressed in his nightclothes and a robe. Yuuri is similarly dressed, but holds his robe shut where Lord Nikiforov’s is open.

 

“Are you nervous? I have brandy, or wine?”

 

Yuuri is tempted, but doubts he’d be able to consume enough to dispel his nerves. “Thank you, but no.”

 

“Yuuri,” he says and steps forward. “You look beautiful.”

 

“Thank you, My Lord. You look handsome as well.”

 

“Won’t you please call me, Victor? You’ve already done so once, and I don’t understand your aversion to it. If you indeed hate it, you can give me a nickname. Uncle Yakov calls me Vitya, you know, you can use that too.”

 

Squeezing his arms around himself Yuuri tries once again to find the words. This time, his husband stands patiently and something in Yuuri settles as he realizes he’s not about to be thrown out.

 

“I will try,” he says.

 

Moving slowly, as if to not spook Yuuri, Lord Nikiforov takes his hand and leads him to the bed.

 

First, his Lord Husband takes off his robe, setting it on the end, then he reaches for the tie on Yuuri’s and slowly undoes the knot. Yuuri stares at the collarbones in front of him, with occasional glances upwards.

 

Blue eyes meet his every time and Yuuri stops fighting his blush, knowing it’s a hopeless endeavor. When the robe is gone a large hand cups his face and slowly — almost too slowly to bear — Lord Nikiforov leans down to kiss him.

 

His lips are soft against Yuuri’s, his breath warm and his taste starts a fire in Yuuri, smouldering as the kiss deepens and his husbands tongue finds his own. He realizes, belatedly, that his hands are on Lord Nikiforovs chest, and only the thin sleepshirt stops him from touching skin.

 

His husband swings him around, and breaks the kiss as the back of Yuuri’s legs hit the bed, making him sit. He stares up into dark blue eyes, and for the first time, he feels thrilled instead of scared. He crawls backwards to get further onto the bed, and something omega in him goes wild when Lord Nikiforov climbs on after him, and leans over Yuuri, enveloping him in his scent.

 

“It drove me mad, to know you were in heat and I couldn’t help,” he says, “I could smell you from the hall.”

 

“How embarrassing, everyone must have smelled me then.”

 

Lord Nikiforov runs a ran delicately over Yuuri’s neck. “Indeed not, for I barred them all from entering the corridor.”

 

He keeps himself braced on one arm while his other hand wanders over Yuuri’s exposed skin, touching his collarbones, slowly moving down. Yuuri feels heated from his husbands touch and gaze and his sex pulses between his thighs, wetness dripping from him.

 

“And when Minami told me that you were sick, I had to check.”

 

“I was so angry with you,” Yuuri says, even though they both know it.

 

“You were indeed very angry and quite fetching, my dear. Though I’ll admit it brings me much more pleasure to have you with me of your own free will.”

 

Yuuri’s hands play with the loose fabric of Lord Nikiforov’s nightshirt, until he sits up and strips it off. His skin is pale and flawless in the firelight and Yuuri’s breath catches in his throat. With a smile his Lord Husband touches Yuuri’s leg, and slides his hand up under his nightgown. Yuuri lifts his hips and torso in turn as it’s stripped of of him, leaving him naked on the sheets.

 

Lord Nikiforov runs a hand over his stomach and to his chest, thumbing over Yuuri’s nipples. He glances up and pauses. “May I put my mouth on you?”

 

Yuuri thinks of his heat, when Lord Nikiforov had whispered all those perverse fantasies in his ear, and nods. He gasps when the Earls lips touches his skin, open mouthed kisses are left in the middle of his chest until they reach his nipples when his tongue laves on one and then the other. His fingers playing with whichever one is unoccupied.

 

Yuuri’s moan is ripped from him. He looks unseeing at the canopy above them since the angle is too awkward for him to watch his Lord Husband. He squirms and feels his thighs slide with slick, and he clenches around nothing as his chest is lovingly abused.

 

“You smell so sweet,” his Lordship says when he lifts his head. “Will you permit me to taste?”

 

“Yes,” Yuuri says quickly. “Yes.”

 

His Lord Husband wastes no time in crawling down Yuuri’s body, leaving lingering kisses and soft touches on his way down. Yuuri gasps when his lips skirt over his cocklet, whispering promises of ‘later, my darling,’ and he blushed even more when he laps at the slick on Yuuri’s thighs, moaning and humming in pleasure at the taste.

 

There's a pause where Yuuri expects the world to fall apart, and then Lord Nikiforov’s mouth is on him, warm and wet and licking into him. Yuuri arches and gasps. His legs try to close instinctively but his Lord Husband grabs them and pushes them wide, holding them there with his arms while his fingers come to join his tongue.

 

They skirt around his lips and the inner corners of his thighs, almost tickling him, before spreading his folds and teasing at his entrance. Yuuri pants and squirms and tries to hold in his moans as frustration builds in him.

 

“Please,” he whispers. “Please, please.”

 

“‘Please’ what, my Yuuri?”

 

A fingers dips into the rim of his opening quickly before withdrawing and circling. It’s maddening, and Yuuri wants to scream. “Please finger me,” he finally says. “I need it, I’m so empty.”

 

“Yes, my love,” Lord Nikiforov whispers before he kisses Yuuri’s cunt and dips two fingers in. He pumps them a few times before he curls them and Yuuri sees stars as he gasps again. He continues that way as Yuuri writhes, hips trapped by the strong arms of his husband.

 

The speed of the fingers increases and Yuuri feels Lord Nikiforov shift and lick a stripe up his cocklet, tonguing away at the precum puddled on his stomach. He mouths at the head, and presses his tongue on the underside, making his cocklet jump and Yuuri moan loudly.

 

His moan almost turns into a shout as the alpha swallows him completely in one motion. His hands fly to burying himself in his husbands hair, soft under his touch. Every lick or twist of his fingers has Yuuri moaning, and he can feel the pressure building in him, ready to slip over that peak.

 

He ruts his hips and pants, and he’s almost, almost there when Lord Nikiforov pulls away, leaving his cocklet to slap wetly against his belly, and his fingers withdraw to tease around the rim of him.

 

“No!” Yuuri shouts and desperately tries to grind down on Lord Nikiforov’s hand. “Please, I’m so close!”

 

His Lord Husband leans over him, “Say my name and I’ll let you cum.”

 

Yuuri feels his cunt clench and throb, his entrance winking and trying to suck in the fingers that rub his folds. He stays silent however, and at that Lord Nikiforov lowers his mouth again. He laps at the slick dripping from his opening before he fucks into Yuuri with his tongue, his hand moving to his cocklet this time.

 

The sensation is different from anything Yuuri has imagined, and so much better. He shakes and squirms and arches, his nipples are exposed and are still tight and pebbled, and he jumps when a hand comes to play and pinch the one.

 

“My Lord,” he moans. “Please, plea— Oh! Fuck, please!”

 

“Say it, my Yuuri,” his husband growls into the inner corners of Yuuri’s thighs. The scent of him seeps over Yuuri like a blanket, possessive and primal and Yuuri’s hips buck, his cunt desperate to be filled — or knotted. Lord Nikiforov rubs his thumb under the head of Yuuri’s cocklet, sensitive and delicious and licks the entrance of his hole. “Say it, and I’ll make you feel heaven.”

 

Yuuri sobs, and gasps and tries to get more friction, but it’s useless. When the hand on his twists his nipple sharply he breaks.

 

“Victor!” He cries. “Victor, I beg you, please, please, I need— Ah!”

 

Victor buries his face between Yuuri’s thighs, his hand quickly working over Yuuri’s hard cocklet, precum dribbling from the slit.

 

It takes only a moment before the world stops spinning, before Yuuri is crying out and cumming on Victors talented tongue. White strips spurt from his cock and he grinds down and bucks up and he scrabbles at the sheets.

 

He’s floating when his Lord Husband comes up and kisses him. Yuuri can taste his own slick and cum on Victors tongue, sweet and smooth, and it makes him shiver. Victors hands run over his body, touching and squeezing soft skin and pockets of fat and muscle. Yuuri sinks into the bed, his hands come up to tangle in his husband hair. Victor moans when Yuuri’s wrist grazes his neck, and suddenly Yuuri can smell the desire rolling off the alpha in waves.

 

“Yuuri, let me tumble you,” Victor says. He’s breathing heavily, his chest expanding and collapsing against Yuuri’s. “I long to bury my cock in you, give you my knot, feel you cum around me.”

 

Yuuri grinds up, where their thighs are slotted together. He can feel Victors hardness, and knows it’s large without even seeing it. He feels himself clench at the idea of it inside him.

 

He takes his hand and drags it down until he’s wrapping his fingers around it. “Yes,” he says, and squeezes and rubs. It’s thick too, and Yuuri longs for the stretch of it. “Fuck me, Victor.”

 

His Lord Husband moans into his neck before he rolls off the bed to discard of his smallclothes, his cock is red and hard and bobs as he crawls back into the bed.

 

Yuuri wants to take it into his mouth, a depraved act that makes him flush deeper, but the desire to have it fill him where he’s warm and wet is more pressing. Victor hovers over him, settling between Yuuri’s thighs and rubbing his fingers through his folds while he mouths at Yuuri’s neck.

 

His breath skins across Yuuri’s scent gland and Yuuri tenses and _wants_. He’s been married and unmarked for months — they both have — and Yuuri wants it. He craves the bond and the feel of teeth over skin.

 

Then something far bigger than fingers slides over him and he’s distracted immediately. He looks at Victor, who rubbing himself up and down Yuuri’s slit and grinning down at him. “You’re so tight, I’ll fill you so well.”

 

“Victor, please.”

 

“Oh,” he says, “my Yuuri,” as he slowly pushes in.

 

Yuuri moans at the stretch, not painful after his husband has fingered him so well and teased him open. He moans again when the alpha bottoms out, filling him completely. It’s so good, better than any of his dreams or fantasies.

 

Then Victor pulls back and rocks forward, slowly fucking into Yuuri, he leans down again and slots their mouths together, their tongues tangling as they drink in each other's moans and whimpers and sighs of pleasure. He clenches on the cock inside him, throbs as it thrusts into him, sliding perfectly along his walls and hitting his sweet spot.

 

Yuuri drags his hands down Victors back, nails digging in. Victor hisses and pulls back, grabbing Yuuri’s legs and spreading them wide. The idea that there might be bruises sends a shiver up Yuuri’s spine.

 

“You love it, don’t you?” He says as his movements get faster and he starts to pound into the squirming omega. “Me being inside you.”

 

“Yes,” Yuuri cries, helplessly pinned his under husband. His words stoke the fire inside him, burning him alive until he’s trembling. “Yes, you— you fill me so well, I— Ah—mmmm…

 

“You’re so wet, sucking me in,” Victor gives a harsh thrust and grinds deep into Yuuri. “My darling, you feel like heaven around me.”

 

Yuuri shivers at the praise, pulsing around his husband. “Knot me, Victor,” he whispers, and catches his husbands surprised expression.

 

Victors hips stutter, and but he doesn’t slow down. “But you’re not in heat…”

 

“It matters not,” Yuuri says and tries to grind up against the alpha. “Fill me with you knot and your seed.”

 

“Fuck,” Victor curses and bends down, teeth scraping over Yuuri’s collarbone as he speeds again, fucking into Yuuri with a brutal rhythm. “Let me mark you, my dear.”

 

“Yes,” Yuuri sighs, head thrown back as pressure builds in him. He feels like he’s melting from the inside. “Yes,” he whispers while Victor sucks on his scent gland.

 

He can feel Victor’s knot expanding and catching on his rim, stretching him further. He barely registers Victors catch of breath as he murmurs into Yuuri’s ear that he’s close when he feels the knot push inside and warmth flood him right as Victor bites down.

 

Yuuri seizes and cries out, his cunt spasms around Victors cock, milking it and squeezing his knot. Victor moans loudly against his neck before he gives soothing licks to the scent gland.

 

Their scents are heavy around them, lust-laden and satisfied and Yuuri wants to purr at the few emotions he feels from Victor, even if he doesn’t know exactly what they are.

 

His Lord Husband slides from him, and Yuuri moans at the feel of slick and sees trickling down from his hole. He lays beside Yuuri and grabs the blankets as he hooks an arm around Yuuri, pulling him to his chest and throwing the covers over them.

 

Something settles in him, as he angles his head and looks up into blue eyes.

 

“My dear,” Victor says, “You’re simply marvelous.”

 

Yuuri’s heart skips a beat, and he blushes. “Thank you, my Lord,” he responds, lowering his eyes to Victors chest.

 

Light fingers direct his face upward again. “Yuuri, I would beg you to keep calling me Victor.”

 

Yuuri hesitantly nods, and that seems to be enough, for Victor smiles at him and presses a kiss to his forehead. “Goodnight, my star.”

 

....................

 

When Yuuri wakes in the morning he’s immediately confused, for his surroundings are not of his own room, and the light is coming through the window at the wrong angle.

 

Then he feels fingertips tracing paths across his skin, goosebumps following their path. He shivers and then looks to his right to see Lord Nikiforov laying beside him, gazing over Yuuri’s body and running his hands over him.

 

It takes a moment for him to look up. “I did not mean to wake you.”

 

“That—That’s alright, My Lord.”

 

“Victor,” he says, his fingers brushing Yuuri’s cockhead.

 

Yuuri is already hard and feels wet between his thighs. “Victor,” he repeats, and is rewarded with a dazzling smile, as bright as the afternoon sun and as magnificent as a full moon.

 

“May I have you again this morning?”

 

“Again?” Yuuri cannot fathom how his husband would want him so much.

 

“After your heat, I couldn’t stop imaging the things I want to do to you, do for you.”

 

Yuuri blushes deep and Victors finger wander down and down until they’re brushing the crease of his thigh, teasing at his slick folds, and dipping into his winking entrance. He moans and buries his face in Victors neck, inhaling his strong scent.

 

They end up quite late to breakfast, to the mixed reactions of the servants.

 

....................

 

_~three months later~_

 

The drawing room is full of people for the first time in months, a party in celebration of Lord Nikiforov’s cousin, Yuri Plisetsky, who’s graduated from his schooling and about to enter college in the fall.

 

Lanterns cast the room in a golden glow as guests chat and wait for dinner.

 

“Yuuri!”

 

He turns and lights up to see Phichit.

 

“Phichit! I didn’t know you were coming! Is Mr Giacometti with you?”

 

“No, unfortunately he had something to settle in Town, but he said he’d be joining us tomorrow.”

 

“Victor will be so pleased. He’s missed his parties and having all his friends around.”

 

Phichit hums, his smile turning sly. “I’ve heard that he’s also quite enjoyed being alone with you.”

 

Yuuri blushes. His sex is still wet from earlier when Victor had pulled him aside and buried his tongue and fingers in Yuuri, rubbing against his sweet spot and drinking his slick until he came on Victor's tongue with a sob. He also thinks of their afternoons in the library and their rides and the time Victor had fenced with Yuuri, surprised and delighted how quickly Yuuri had caught on.

 

“...Well, it hasn’t been intolerable.”

 

“I’d say,” Phichit leans closer. “I noticed you both sporting matching fresh marks.”

 

“Phichit!” Yuuri hisses, having the decency to sound scandalizes.

 

“I’m sorry, Yuuri,” But doesn’t sound sorry at all. “I’m very happy to see your marriage has improved,” he pauses, dark eyes searching Yuuri’s face. “It has improved, hasn’t it?”

 

“Yes, very much so. I—“ Yuuri stops and swallows. He looks over his shoulder to gaze at his Lord Husband, who’s listening intently as Yuri tells stories of his exploits at school. His silver hair seems molten in the firelight and his soft smile sends a surge of warmth through Yuuri. The mark on his neck pulses and his heart skips a giddy rhythm in his chest as Victor’s eyes find his. “I… I think I’m in love with him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: i want to write regency smut  
> me, but it's me who hate sleep and working: add feelings and another 7k words lmao
> 
> 1) i had an extra scene that i cut because it never fit as much as i tried, but there's a ball where they first met and yuuri got wasted on wine and danced a whole lot with Victor which is where the line "you're different from the charming omega i danced with" comes from which i didn't remove because i actually love that line? but theres context for y'all
> 
> 2) dont start a regency watching P&P and switch to downton abbey halfway through or you'll have to re-write half the dialogue,, but on the bright side there's a mental image of the rooms i guess lmao
> 
> 3) literally thank you to everyone who left a comment in part 1?!!!!! you are too kind i was and still am s o b b i n g akshgdas
> 
> 4) thanks to todd who fucking shouted "Writing a story!? is it FANFICTION?! Are You Writing Another FANFICTION!?!" exactly when the bar was quiet for .5 seconds. 
> 
> 5) a special askjdhghakjshgd to @jumpforjo who is literally the kindest and most talented and most amazing person ever i <3 you
> 
> and finally
> 
> 6) me, an orphan carrying a wood bowl: please sirs, may i have some more comments

**Author's Note:**

> honestly what the fuck 
> 
> 1) victor is a dick, they both know it  
> 2) Yuuri is also a dick, he acknowledges this less lmao  
> 3) Victors given name is never said in part 1 for a reason (and honestly it was the most annoying thing to write jfc)  
> 4) that reason and everything else will be revealed in part 2 which is on the way asap  
> 5) as per my note as the beginning please forgive me for any mistakes - grammar, spelling, awkwardness or otherwise. i am too lowly for a beta and wrote most of this at 2am during my jobs busiest week of the year lmao
> 
> and finally
> 
> 6) me, but dressed as an orphan child with a tin cup: 'please sirs, may i have some comments?'


End file.
